2:27 AM
by Ashgirl195
Summary: She wanted nothing to do with the people around her. Because they would all be dead by her hands eventually. One-Shot rated M for a reason.


**So this is a one-shot that I wrote recently. It's creepy, just so you're warned. This is rated M for a reason. **

**Thanks to my beta Truth In The Moon!**

**Hit or miss? Review and tell me either one. :-)**

* * *

_He backed away slowly, a terrified whimper resounding fr__o__m him. His features were blurred, his identity unknown. A blank face of no significance._

_She stalked towards him, hands curled into make-shift claws and her knife ready for use in her back pocket. He was nearing a corner, the perfect trap._

_His back hit the wall__,__ and he turned his head quickly to see if he was really trapped. She took that second, that split second that his focus was not on her, to lunge at him. She caught him by the throat and swiped her leg under his feet, sending him to the ground. He let out a strangled cry, but it was in vain. The house was empty and the neighbors __were __gone. __She went __down with him, landing on her knees with her hands__ still in residence at his neck. He tried to push her off, but his lack of air made him weak. She pressed each of her knees into his arms, stopping any type of resistance. She slammed the back of his head into the floor, her left hand staying at his neck while her right hand goes for the knife in her back pocket. She surfaced the knife and held it at his __neck, in the precise spot where he will bleed slowly and die painfully. _

_She smiled._

_He whimpered._

_She pressed the knife into his neck, ready to slice._

_As she started to slice, his face became clear._

_Edward._

* * *

Bella jumped out of bed screaming like a banshee. She put her hand to her head, and brought it back drenched in sweat. She sat down on the floor in the fetal position, placing her head between her knees.

She'd been having the same dream for the past two weeks. Every night she tried her damnedest to do anything and everything to keep her awake, but she always ended up passing out at some point. Every time that happened, the dream would resurface.

Bella reached up blindly to her bed to feel under her pillow. She found the small item and took it from under the pillow. She brought her head up to look at it.

A picture. Of the one person she dreams about killing every night.

Edward.

But the dreams terrified her. Because she couldn't kill Edward. Thinking of killing Edward made her feel sick.

Bella studied the photo like she had many times. It was Edward at his finest. A picture of him at their senior high school prom. He was in a tux, his hair the same beautiful bronze mess it always was. His breathtaking smile was the brightest thing on the picture, beside the emerald brilliance of his eyes.

Edward.

She first met him in sophomore year of high school. The minute she laid eyes on him, she knew he was different. Different than all the other insignificant assholes that surrounded her.

Bella. The sociopathic killer that hid herself very well.

No one knew Bella's issues in high school. She hid them well. She hid them well since they first started. When she was nine.

She felt herself change. She was young, but intelligent. She possessed skills that would take others years to learn. She knew them all.

She was brilliant. A genius, you could say.

But she didn't use it well.

She started with animals. Every night, she snuck out of her house with a knife and a pair of waterproof gloves. Every stray that caught her eye was dead by the next morning. It wasn't a quick death as some would think.

It was not just hunting. It was torturing.

School found to be of no interest. She passed everything with flying colors without so much as a second glance.

She stayed away from people. By herself all the time. She wanted nothing to do with any of the people around her.

Because they would be dead by her hands eventually.

Then sophomore year came.

And so did Edward.

He took away the urges. Her demon was silent whenever he was near. His very presence made her want to be anything but the killer she always was.

They became best friends. He was her only friend. He was the only person she ever wanted as a friend. She knew everything about him. He trusted her with anything.

He thought he knew everything about her too. He thought she trusted him with anything.

But he knew nothing.

She was scared of revealing to him who she really was. She knew he would run away in terror, and never want anything to do with her again. She couldn't risk that. She couldn't risk losing him.

So she lied.

About everything.

She gave him a completely different person to become best friends with. Someone he would actually want to be around. Someone who wasn't crazy.

She thought about him constantly. He was the reason she tried to change. She tried to stop killing at night.

She almost succeeded.

Almost.

Three years. Three years she went without killing anything. Three years of him as her best friend. She thought she could do it. She knew that as long as he was around, she didn't need to give in to the urges. The urges weren't even there.

She never thought about when high school was over.

She was stupid. She only fooled herself.

He left for college across the country four years ago. And she hasn't seen him since.

She loved him.

He never knew.

In the past four years, there have been twenty-seven unsolved murders/disappearances.

She was smart. She knew how to get away with murder. She knew how to rid of evidence. She was precise.

She didn't slip up. Not once.

Bella put the picture back under her pillow, finished with thinking of the past again.

She got up and swiftly crossed her bedroom to her dresser. Opening the top drawer, she grabbed her knife. She tossed it over to her bed and grabbed her black sweatpants. She quickly put them on and searched under her bed for her black boots. After she found them, she put them on and laced them up. She grabbed her knife and walked into the living room of her small apartment. Her black sweatshirt was draped over her fold-up chair in the kitchen. She grabbed it and threw it over her head, along with her gloves on the small card table. She stuck her knife up the sleeve of her sweatshirt, then pulled her hood up. A quick glance at the clock in the kitchen told her it was currently 2:27 AM. Most of the city was asleep.

Bella stared at her knife. She set it on the table and opted for the gun in the cushion of the living room couch.

Bella walked out of her apartment and into the night.

* * *

Edward ran a hand through his messy bronze hair one more time before leaving the bathroom of his large, expensive apartment. He rushed out to the highly furnished living room to grab his suitcase off one of the four couches. He looked down to fix his tie one more time.

He was about to walk out the door to work when he heard the television.

_Breaking news: Middle-aged man and wife found dead in their house by a young girl, around twenty-two, also found dead in the house with a gun in hand._

Edward swerved around to the TV to see his best friend with a bullet hole in the side of her head.

He'd never know that he was the last person she thought about.


End file.
